


The Greatest Heist

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: In which Hardison wants to adopt, the trio buys a house, and an attempt at normalcy is had.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51
Collections: Heart Attack Exchange 2020





	The Greatest Heist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shnuffeluv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/gifts).



#### December

It was nice, being able to spend Christmas together like this. Just the three of them, in their penthouse apartment.

Sure, the past year had been a whirlwind as they took on heist after heist as their own Leverage firm, now working firmly as a trio (albeit with the occasional helping hand when the right occasion arose), and the past few nights had teetered near disaster in far too many ways as they dealt with the Christmas rush at the brewpub, but that made relaxing on the 25th all the sweeter.

Hardison had insisted on them buying a real tree, saying his Nana had made sure they'd had one every year, and that they'd all decorated it together whale playing old records of motown Christmas classics. Parker had stolen them a record player so they could do just that—it wasn't that hard even; an old lady down the street from the brewpub had a heart attack a month ago, and Parker just nicked it before the estate sale started. She even made sure to go back and leave a little more than fair market price for it in the cashbox, so arguably it wasn't _really_ stealing so much as buying in advance.

It wasn't an experience that Parker was used to, spending Christmas like this. Or spending Christmas with _anyone,_ really. Certainly not with people who cared. The past few years had become increasingly more… accommodating in those ways, but this year, having the three of them together, and an apartment that they could call their own and share together, and dealing with the mundanities of day-to-day life….

It wasn't something she'd ever really had the chance to explore before. It wasn't something she'd ever thought she'd even want.

But here she was, with Eliot and Hardison, and she wouldn't change it for the world.

She didn't think either of them would either. 

And yet…

And yet, there was something off with the way Hardison was reacting to everything. It had been very clear when they were decorating, the way his face just kept clouding over with a wistful expression when he didn't think they were looking. Sure, he was still laughing and joking with them, and humming along as he put a bunch of ornaments (from the same estate sale) on the Christmas tree, but there was something missing. Something up.

And Parker was going to find out what it was, eventually. But first, apparently, it was time for festivities.

Apparently it would take more than a day off from the microbrewery to stop Eliot from cooking; he was going at it hard in the kitchen, trying to put together the perfect Christmas feast. In fact, he'd banished Parker from the kitchen entirely, which is what had led her to sit beside Hardison as he turned on some Christmas puppet special on the TV. Though her asking what he was watching had made some interesting expressions appear on his face, none of them quite the same one as before.

"You've really never seen _Rudoph, the Red Nosed Reindeer_?", he asked, looking absolutely incredulous as he turned towards her.

"Nope," she replied, shrugging. "Why? Is that weird?"

"Weird?" Hardisson repeated. "It's one of the fundamental Christmas classics! Aired every year since 1960-something! And, okay, yes, I know your upbringing was a little less than ordinary, but still. Yeah. It's kinda weird that you've gone over thirty years of life in a country where you can't stop hearing Christmas music in every physical retail store you walk into from Thanksgiving until December 24th, and never once seen Rudoph."

"Yeah, and that's why I know the song," Parker countered. "I mean, okay. It's Rudoph. He has a shiny nose, kids make fun of him for it, but somehow its shininess lets Santa see in the dark? Why does it need a whole movie?"

Hardison just threw an arm around her shoulders and brought her in for a hug. 

"Just watch," he said. "You can be the judge of that when we're done."

 _Rudolph_ ended up not being that bad. Parker still didn't see the point of it entirely, but the elf wanting to be a dentist was a nice touch. Reminded her a bit of Eliot, actually. Reminded her even more of Eliot when he used his dentistry skills to remove all of the yeti's teeth. Hardison laughed when she told him that was her favourite part.

"It would be."

They settled in to watch a few more of those cheesy specials of questionable merit, but apparently, according to Hardison, Classic and Essential to enjoying a good Christmas. Mrs. Claus had to make sun and snow demons get along in order to save Christmas. A snowman came to life and kept wishing people a happy birthday. Some kids decided to put on a Christmas pageant. It was during that last one, as Snoopy decorated his dog house with an elaborate holiday light display, causing Charlie Brown to give an apparently characteristic shout of exasperation, that Parker noticed that wistful look on Hardison's face again.

They'd been in the business long enough to know that one of the best ways to deal with interpersonal problems was to tackle it face-on. And while grifting was always an option to find a backdoor, that hadn't gotten her anywhere thus far. And besides Parker really was best with a blunt approach. And so, straightening up (causing Hardison to whine at the lack of direct contact), she turned to face him.

"What's up?" she asked.

Blinking, Hardison turned to look at her in turn. 

"I mean, that tree's about to turn out to be a diamond in the rough, but--"

"Not what I meant," Parker interrupted. "What's up with you?"

"With _me?_ " Hardison repeated. "I'm fine. I'm great. I'm glad to be spending Christmas with both of you. Looking forward to several more. And hungry, because whatever dark magic Eliot is using in the kitchen smells amazing."

"It's not dark magic!" Eliot called back, "It's searing!"

" _Definitely dark magic,_ " he stage whispered, giving a conspiratorial look that almost made Parker grin. But this was a serious moment, and she seriously needed to know what was going on. So she bit the inside of her cheek and kept her unblinking gaze on Hardison until he cracked.

"You're really good at that," he replied.

"I know," Parker acknowledged. "I've had years of practice winning staring contests. But what's up?"

Hardison sighed. "Look. I wasn't lying; this really is great. Wonderful. All that I could ever have hoped for. Getting to share the holidays with you, having a couple days where we can just be us; no heists, no pub; just good food and even better company. But I keep on thinking back to my Christmases growing up. And how Nana didn't have a lot, but there was always so much joy because we were all together just like that."

"So you want your siblings?" Parker asked. "I mean, this being so short notice, kidnapping them might be a little difficult, but—"

"No, no, no kidnapping," Hardison replied, gripping Parker's arm tight before she could get up and start gathering her gear. "For one, we've all got a video call at three, which you and Eliot are welcome to, as are all the other spouses. And for another, it's not quite that."

"Nate and Sophie, then? I mean, I know they've gone off the grid, but if anyone can track them down—"

"Not them," Hardison replied. "I gave my word that I'd leave them alone until at least mid-March. The ides are still up in the air, but we'll see where we're at when we get there."

"Who then?"

Hardison shrugged. "I just… part of me looks at what we have, and where we're going… and wishes we could share it with a kid. You know? Like, you and I both had very different experiences growing up, I know. But… maybe you'd have thrived if you'd been in a place like mine. And... I'd kind of like to offer that to someone."

Parker could feel her stomach drop at the thought, and she took a deep breath.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Hardison said, voice a little lower. "I know it's a lot. And I don't know if you and Eliot are ready, and I definitely wouldn't bring one in if we didn't all definitely want it, but—"

"We'll talk it over," Parker decided. "Go over all the details with us tonight. Give us some time to think about it. And then we'll talk about it again. And from there, we'll see."

Hardison nodded, eyes tearing up as he pulled Parker into a hug, which she awkwardly returned.

"You're the best," he murmured. "And I love you, you know that?"

"I know," Parker replied. 

It was a true statement for both of his claims, after all.

* * *

#### January

The talks were both longer and shorter than Hardison had expected.

He'd thought that he'd explain the kind of home that they could offer, the kind of skills that they each had that might be appropriate for child-rearing (a lot more practical for himself and Eliot, a lot more metaphysical, like empathy, for Parker) and have little snippets of talk over months and years until either a decision was reached, or they'd just all forget about it and move on with their lives.

He didn't expect Parker to bring it up almost every night for the next week, asking far too many questions about everything from the logistics of adding someone else to their household (where are we going to put our sex toys?) to the kind of kid that Hardison wanted (someone older, more likely to slip through the cracks like Parker; the more out of the box, the better). Eliot had his own thoughts too; he was a bit more awkward about some of the conversation topics—probably some sort of guilt at being the only one of the three of them who'd actually grown up _with_ parents, but still shared his mind on the issue every night as the topic was brought up again and again over their late night dinners. (They usually ate together after the restaurant closed; just because they'd shut the place down for the week between Christmas and New Year's didn't mean their schedule had to change, after all!)

It was a little after midnight on New Year's Day when things finally came to a head as Parker, a little tipsy on $300 champaign, stood in front of their TV, freshly-refilled glass held high.

"I think we should make ourselves a new year's resolution," she said.

Both her boys stopped what they were doing, and waited for her to continue.

"By the end of the year, we're gonna steal ourselves a kid."

"You sure?" Hardison asked, looking between her and Eliot.

Eliot had a grave look on his face as he nodded. "I think you're right. Raising a kid's not exactly going to be easy, but we've got a lot of things that we can do to make it work. And… well, you didn't turn out half-bad. Even if you are a master hacker." (Hardison gave a playful "humph" at that.) "I think together, it would be an honour to raise a kid with you guys."

"See?" Parker replied. "It's settled. This year, we've got one major heist to pull off. So, let's steal a kid."

And, well, if that wasn't the most _them_ way to start down the road to fostering, Hardison didn't know what was.

* * *

It was later that day that Hardison sat both Eliot and Parker down to go over the basics.

In many ways, it felt like many other heists they'd done before; research done, info packets prepared. They just had a slightly less specific goal this time. This, however, seemed to surprise Parker, who gave a confused look as she went over the info she'd been given.

"You don't have a specific kid in mind?"

"No," Hardison replied. "There's a lot to figure out before we get there; especially if we want to avoid any worries from Children's Aid. We'll see what we're thinking about when we're a bit further down the line, and take a look at what's available then."

He didn't add that it wasn't always a choice so much as who was in the greatest need; there would be plenty of time for that, too, later on. Plus, he was sure, he could manipulate the algorithms if he _really_ needed to.

"So, where are we starting, then?" Eliot wondered.

"There's a few main areas of attack," Hardison replied. "First of all, space. While the penthouse is very nice, and cozy for the three of us, if we can afford this, then we can afford ourselves a house-house. And we probably _should_ afford one. It'll make us look that much more responsible, if we can hold one down, keep it in good order, etcetera."

"A house. Really?" Parker asked.

"Yeah," Hardison replied. "Big space, an actual room for the kid… things like that are usually considered a good thing.

"Second, we're going to have to figure out chores," he continued. "No more letting laundry sit for a month, if we can help it. It'd be good if we can set up a schedule, and try to stick to it. I know it's worked out halfways decently at the pub; we just need to figure out how to port that to home use, and not fall off the wagon after a few months."

"So long as someone else does the dishes," Eliot said, making Parker roll her eyes.

"And last…." Hardison took in a deep breath, looking at the best muscle he'd ever had the pleasure of working alongside, and the pickpocket that had managed to steal their very hearts. "I can get us clean slates easy enough; wipe records so thoroughly that we've officially never done anything wrong in our entire lives. Or make new identities or us, as thorough and in-depth as I have for any other heist. But this one's going to take some special work for following through."

"Meaning?" Eliot asked.

"Meaning, we need to do our best to not _seem_ like criminals," Hardison concluded. "Which, we've got the brewpub. I've got my freelance gigs on the side. And I know there's been one or two more opportunities we've been talking about on and off again. But… that's just the thing. I think we need to live clean, as clean as we possibly can, for at least long enough that we can get into the habits that go along with being law-abiding citizens."

"How long are we talking?" Parker asked.

Hardison shrugged. "Start with until we get the kid, and go from there. If we can give the appearance of respectability enough that we can get through a few home visits, we'll probably be fine."

"So no pickpocketing the child support workers."

"Absolutely not."

Parker sighed. "Fine, fine. I won't pickpocket the child support workers. But if they get out of line…."

"Then we deal with that as it happens." Hardison promised. "But for now… let's say one year. One year, not doing anything criminal. No heists, no assassinations, no hacking into the White House to leak another batch of documents. Do you think we can manage that?"

Eliot nodded. "Much as there's too many idiots involved in its creation and running, I like the pub. For this, I think I won't mind putting my other business pursuits aside for a while."

Hardison smiled, then turned to the other member of their trio. "And you, Parker?"

Parker was biting her lip. "I don't know. I mean, how do I just go about, not stealing things?"

"Most people do that every day, you know," Eliot countered, bumping into her shoulder affectionately.

Parker returned the bump. "I know. But I'm not most people."

"Can you cut down, at least?" Eliot asked. "If we can wean you off, great. It's for a good cause. But do you think you could try?"

Parker thought for a moment, and sighed. "Yeah… admittedly, I love you guys more than I love pickpocketing. So for you, for this, I guess I can try."

"Great," Hardison said, smiling as he reached to grab both of their hands. "So, we've got ourselves the basics of a plan. I know it's a bit more rough than we usually have, but we'll fill in the details along the way."

"I know," Eliot replied, giving Hardison's hand a squeeze. "It's going to be a lot of work, but we've got time to figure it out. Can't say the same about too many of the other jobs I've had over the years."

"It _is_ a nice luxury," Hardison agreed easily.

Parker sighed. "You're really going to make me not steal."

"I mean, we can't _force_ you to…"

"We could," Eliot replied, "but I'd really rather not go down any of those possibilities unless we absolutely had to." 

Parker made a face. "No maiming."

"Not maining is generally a good house rule for a happy home life," Hardison agreed, which made Eliot huff.

"I meant more the tying up stuff, but okay, yeah, no maiming either."

"Good."

"I'll do my best," Parker promised. "But only for a year, okay?"

"Only for a year," Hardison agreed.

"It's gonna be one crazy year," Eliot mused. "Sure you're up for it?"

Parker smiled, reaching for Eliot's hand so she could complete the triangle.

"It's you guys. The three of us, we're up for anything."

And Hardison had to agree. With the three of them, they could take on the world.

So how hard could one year trying to live on the level even be?

* * *

#### February

"So, out of curiosity," Parker began, and Eliot felt a bit of dread as he waited to hear what morbid question she had in store this time, "what exactly counts as illegal."

Eliot let out a breath he'd only half realized that he was holding. That was a _lot_ less dangerous as the time that she'd asked about the noise that someone made as they were stabbed from the front, as opposed to from behind, or how deboning a duck might compare to doing the same on a human corpse.

"I mean, there's a whole fucking criminal code for that; I'm sure Hardison could download a copy, and make it an ebook for you to read through."

"I know," Parker replied. "And yeah, textbook definition, that's the answer. But, I mean, for the purpose of our experiment, what's the limit? Like, grand larceny's definitely covered there, but so's jaywalking and driving over the speed limit. And last I checked, the flow of traffic's still about ten miles over in most places. So, for our purposes, does that count?"

Eliot sighed. "No, I think it's actually safer to go with the flow of traffic."

"Walking down the street with your shoes untied is technically illegal in Portland."

"We're talking the big things; jail over fines. Things that go on your criminal record and don't get you just a ticket or a date in traffic court."

"Sodomy's technically illegal in several countries, you know…."

Eliot sighed. "Get out of my kitchen, will you?"

* * *

#### March

The weird thing about even thinking about planning a move, as Parker discovered, was that everything suddenly became sentimental. How many more times was she going to touch this door handle? How many times was she going to see this view out of that window? How many times would she wake up to the muffled sounds of the apartment below having their television up just a little too loud as they listened to the morning news? (To be fair, the Hendersons were a kind, elderly couple, and had never asked too many questions; plus, it proved a good exercise in eavesdropping, if an entirely mundane and rudimentary one. Seeing exactly how much of the newscast she could catch and fact check was a fun way to spend the first hour of every day, if she did say so herself.)

There were things that Parker would miss about the penthouse, even if she agreed that having a house would be nice.

Parker had never really had a house, after all. A storage unit, yes, but that was really more like a semi-detached unit, and even if there was no-one else actually living in one over the entire complex so far as she was aware, Hardison had made it entirely clear that, one, that was a really weird and unusual setup that she'd made for herself, and two, it didn't count as homeownership.

So, not including the storage unit, Parker had lived in an actual house twice in her life. Neither had been a particularly good time. In fact, she'd ended up kind of… blowing one of them up.

She'd actually offered to blow the penthouse up too; destroying it so that no residual evidence could be found of their past crimes and trysts, but Haridson and Eliot reminded her of the Hendersons and the others living in the complex, and how bad it would be for them to have their homes disappear in the collateral damage.

Plus, they reminded her, blowing up houses was pretty hard against the "No Criminal" rule. 

It was a shame, in a way. She really didn't want someone else living here; to have access to have this spot. This was _their_ home. That was _her_ spot where she could look out onto Portland's streets. And even if they were going to live somewhere else… part of her still wanted it to be hers, and hers alone.

Maybe she'd try and talk them into keeping the penthouse, too. After all, they had the money to burn, and having a place closer to work would be useful if they ever had to stay super late at the brewpub. Or if she needed some space, as she sometimes did. It'd be safer than running off to a hotel for all of them. 

Or, well… or if there was trouble afoot. They _did_ seem to attract trouble, after all. (More like they invited it with open arms, and gave it a gilded invitation to return.)

At the very least, it was something to talk over with the boys. But the idea of having two real homes sounded even more amazing to Parker than having just one.

* * *

#### April

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Eliot asked, as he and Parker dressed up to go out in the rainy April weather to look at houses.

"What? And drag up the prices 23% by my mere presence? No, I'm pretty sure I'm better off staying at home," Hardison replied.

"That bad, huh?" Parker asked, as Eliot gave a long whistle.

"Fraid so. Much as people say things are improving, there are still some glass ceilings that unfortunately need to be chipped away at. Meaning that a perfectly normal white married couple is far more likely to get a good house in a decent neighbourhood at a fair price than if someone _else_ is entered into the equation. Bright side of that is, that means I can stay home and relay information; look up data on the neighbourhood, anything that we should avoid or look out for, anything that should get us a discount or that we want to walk away from altogether."

"And that's not breaking the No Criminal Rule how?" Parker asked.

"Easy," Hardison replied. "I'm just doing information retrieval. Nothing that a person who knows where to look wouldn't find. It's not like I plan to hack into MLS and change the price of the top ten listings just so we have a chance at one of 'em. It'll be fine."

Parker narrowed her eyes, but let the conversation drop.

"Still," Eliot replied, "when all this is done, we should start thinking about what kind of heist it'd take to get to get people to start being farer about housing prices."

Hardison smiled. "We can work on it. Now shoo. Get going before _all_ the good houses are gone."

* * *

There was a lot to look out for when buying a first home. Hardison had been doing his research, seeing what was on the market, what experts said was important to look out for and keep in mind, and what the average joe seemed to be saying r/homeowners and r/realestate.

They wanted something suburban and boring. Not too fancy, like the mansion he'd bought himself for a little while just because he could. (He'd sold it again not long after; it was too spacious—something he didn't even think was possible until he'd thought about how to actually take care of the place—and the architecture, while amusing for the first little while, really was a disaster.) Not too cheap, either. (Parker's storage unit idea came to mind, making him shudder.) 

An upper-middle-class neighbourhood with a decent walking score and good schools nearby would be ideal. And, thankfully, there were a few of those in the Portland area to choose from, each with several potential houses up for sale.

Still, knowing about a neighbourhood had nothing to do with the condition of the actual houses. _That_ required some proper hands-on investigation. 

Kitting people up with spy cams and earpieces so that they could be in touch while checking out new home options wasn't _technically_ illegal. They did stuff like that on reality homeowner shows all the time, and even Dame Edna had gotten into that sort of thing on her Neighbourhood Watch. So by Hardison's own definition of the rules, they were completely in the clear legality-wise as he set everyone up with their respective gear, running a few quick tests before sending them out on their way for a day of marathon house hunting.

Hardison had done the first round of going through ads and MLS listings (again; info seeking technically wasn't illegal if it was publicly available data… if he was doing it just a bit quicker, more thorough, and more efficiently than the average person, well, that was just putting a few years of practice to good use.) From there, he'd brought them together for discussion before narrowing down the options. Parker and Eliot both eliminated a few on first sight; some because there were obvious security holes that would be too big to fill; others for more personal reasons. Parker didn't like how difficult it would be to climb up to the second floor on one house (doable, she assured them; just would be unpleasant on the hands and knees) while Eliot said one reminded him of an ex-girlfriend's place, and would rather _not_ have to see that every day.

In the end, they narrowed it down to their top ten, by which time two had already gone off the market, giving them eight to look at.

("It's really gotta be that fast?" Parker asked, eyes wide as her favourite was snatched away.

"Fraid so. Especially in spring. But this is when we've got the best variety, so you win some, you lose some."

Parker frowned, chewing on her lip for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Fine. I guess we'll just settle for one of the other ones, then. Even if it means we won't have a crazy slide in the backyard."

Hardison patted her shoulder. "We can always put one in.")

Eight was still a lot of houses to look at in one day. Heck, it would have been a lot to look at over a weekend. But the Leverage crew was always known for being up to a challenge, and so they booked times with three different agents, each taking the so-called happy couple to look at two or three potential homes.

And so it went, with Parker and Eliot exploring the house; Parker looking for all the neat nooks and crannies, while Eliot took in details of the structure, and Hardison fed them extra information and tips of where and how to look for things that might not have made it into the listing.

"Yeah, no, that's water damage under the sink. We'll want to avoid that."

"Can you take us down to the basement? I want to check for mold in the walls."

"Okay, remember that device I gave you? Use it to see if it gives you a lead reading."

They ended up looking at a few options in Bethany, Cedar Mill, and Oak Hills before finally settling on a two-story house, about twenty minutes away from the pub, with a spacious backyard and a whopping five bedrooms and four and a half baths. (A toilet for every bedroom did, indeed, seem like a wise investment, even if only a few of them were likely to see their intended purpose.)

Hardison oversaw the deal from afar, looking up every detail he could to ensure a fair bargain that worked more than slightly in their favour while Eliot and Parker continued to front as the Robinsons: a Perfectly Normal Suburban Couple.

A closing date was chosen, the paperwork went through, and that was all there was to it.

* * *

#### May

"What did you pickpocket today, Parker?" Eliot asked, sighing and half-heartedly as they did their usual end-of-the-night ritual.

Parker took a moment to do mental inventory. "Five pins, two watches—one's a knock-off rolex, and not even a _good_ one. Like, if you're going to pay for a knock-off to go with your suit, at least _try_ to get one that looks the part! Also, someone dropped a handful of coins on the ground and left without picking them up, which technically is neither tips _nor_ pickpocketing…."

Eliot sighed again, giving her a Look. "It's still supposed to be _none_ , you realize."

"I do," Parker replied. "It's just… I see something shiny, and my hands just work on their own. You know how it is."

Eliot did, and that was as much a problem as anything. The feeling was more an itch for a good fight in his case, but he was able to get most of that out at the gym through punching bags and the odd wrestling or boxing match. Sure, he was no longer going for the kill, or even to take out anyone in more of an incapacitated sense, but the body contact was nice. The feel of the impact was nice. And knowing that there _were_ a few options out there on how to do that without putting his life in danger… it didn't fill all the gaps that this temporary new life left, but it definitely made it liveable.

If he'd had no way of getting through; no way of keeping up with his skills and to satisfy that itch for skin-on-skin contact and pain and that feeling of a good, hard impact… he'd probably be going mad already.

For Hardison it was easier still. Swap the focus of his searches, and he was fine. Sure, it meant less hacking and cracking, but there were some things that people set up _to_ be hacked, and literally set up as an open challenge. Not to mention, Hardison had made some pretty impressive Mario levels and sculptures in Minecraft, and was thinking of entering a few upcoming gaming tournaments, just because he could.

But for Parker… for Parker it was harder. There were fewer things that matched well with thievery, especially with pickpocketing. And while there were certainly uses for that sleight of hand, there still weren't too many practical applications. Unless….

Eliot took a deep breath in, and back out again, as he thought over the idea.

"We need to get you doing some magic or something."

Parker frowned. "What? Like the card tricks that Hardison does sometimes?"

"Well, maybe," Eliot replied. "I was thinking something a bit more sleight-of-hand heavy than his usual crap. Something that you can use your skills in. Or at least use them transferably."

"Will you let me perform here if I get good?"

Eliot stopped himself from rolling his eyes, instead taking one deep breath. "I'll consider it."

Parker grinned. "Great. Wait until you see The Great Astoundette, Illusionist Extraordinaire in action."

And with that, she was off like a shot, to do who-knows-what, leaving a sinking pit in Eliot's stomach that feeled a lot like he'd been duped.

"I DIDN'T SAY YES!" he called after her, but Parker was already long-gone, off to perfect her wonderful, awful routine.

* * *

#### June

There was a lot to doing magic, as it turned out. And yeah, it wasn't as fun as pickpocketing, but there definitely were things that Parker could transfer from one area to another.

Like how to misdirect someone, so they'd miss the bits that made her tricks mundane. Or, how to get someone's guard down, so they were ready to be made into easy bait, and ready to be sucked into whatever she was selling.

Eliot hadn't exactly given her _permission_ to begin performing at the brewpub, but he could hardly stop her from going out every now and again to entertain the odd guest who came in on their own.

She'd sit across from them, do a few tricks, and attempt to make them smile. And sometimes she'd pickpocket something from them anyways, to show that she could, always returning it immediately and framing it as part of the act.

It was fun. It was different. And, honestly? She still liked the thrill of heists more, but the genuine smiles that she got out of a good 85% of her targets proved that this really was a worthwhile gig in its own way.

So yeah, it wasn't exactly the way she preferred to use her skills. But as a hobby, it was definitely a good pass-time.

* * *

#### July

Planning the move-in was practically a heist in and of itself. Which was a relief; it was nice to be able to flex those muscles again, even if it was just for figuring out the logistics on how to prepare for the move, rather than planning something that would put life and limb on the line in new and thrilling ways.

First, of course, had been the intel and selection of a target—that beautiful house they'd settled on, about twenty minutes away. But next came the plans on how to make it perfect for _them_.

And, oh boy, there was some work to be done.

They'd gotten pictures of the rooms from every angle, and firm dimensions of the rooms as well. And as the old family moved out to settle in their new home with plenty of time to adjust before the new school year began, Hardison visited the house in person for the first time, hand in hand with the two loves of his life. (Well, the two _human_ loves of his life, anyway. No-one was taking Lucille 4.0 or his high-speed network connection away from him.)

The raw material was even better than he'd admitted, to be honest. The house had good bones. But it had obviously been repainted for selling; either that or the last residents were fairly boring. The walls were all the same painter's beige. The carpets were old; not in horrible condition, but with enough stains to be worth considering replacing. And the kitchen, well, it held potential, but definitely could do with some upgrades to be truly up to Eliot's standards.

Plus, there was furniture to buy; rooms to assign, and so, so much more.

And so, armed with all the information he could get his hands on, Hardison started planning.

He started with The Sims. He'd done that with the apartment when they were still planning to move in together for the first time, and, after realizing that he had no idea what he was doing with home design, he'd done it with his McMansion as well, a couple months after moving in. It wasn't perfect, especially with furniture dimensions, but it gave a good idea of which rooms would be best used for what, and what sorts of furniture arrangements would work best. Plus, it was fun to watch Sim!Parker tease Sim!Eliot before the two engaged in WooHoo in the giant (if unrealistic) heart-shaped hot tub that he'd put in their secret second basement. (That said, he _was_ trying to talk the real Eliot and Parker into getting a hot tub room. They definitely had the space, and it sounded like a great addition to their current plans, even if they'd probably use it more for relaxing and soothing sore muscles than the real-life equivalent to WooHoo.) Overall, it made for a good scratchpad; a good way to have fun while getting the basics figured out. And then, once Hardison had his ideas figured out, it was time to work with more life-like models.

It took some time to create the model for the house in Sims, sure, but that was a lot faster than rendering his pictures into a realistic 360 view of the house, with all of the possible options customizable for changing. Still, it was only about half a day's worth of work, all told. (Thank goodness for premade scripts algorithms he could use; God Bless Greasy Fork.) 

Using his rendered virtual house to actually figure out what they wanted, however? Oh, that took a couple days' worth of time spread out over the next few weeks playing around with the options, formatting potential furniture pieces so that their sizes were reflected, and seeing how things could fit within the space. At one point, he piled all the furniture he'd rendered in the very middle of the backyard and seeing if he could make it say dirty messages. (He really should've done that in the Sims instead, but there was something neat in knowing that yes, he could theoretically make a satisfying sky-view of a cock and balls in real life with a full dining room set and some La-Z-Boys.)

Of course, he didn't do all the decision-making by himself either; Parker had laid dibs on one room after the very first time that they'd visited the house, and no-one was going to deny her that, even if they'd probably spend most nights sleeping together in the Master suite anyway. Her chosen room was the smallest of the bedrooms anyway; far too large to be a standard walk-in closet, but still a straightforward box of space. There was a second, smaller master-ish suite, and Hardison had been tempted to make that his computer room (his baby deserved a life of luxury, after all), however after Eliot pointed it out, he had to agree: it was a much better idea to reserve that for their new arrival, to give them a good amount of personal space. So, he claimed the _third_ largest bedroom instead, leaving the second-smallest one open for turning into a communal library or stock room, or whatever else they needed as time went on. Eliot was offered the room first, of course, but he declined; preferring instead to turn half of the open-concept basement into an exercise room, and use another large section to make a second kitchen. It suited his needs better, and gave them a place to move the current shelves and appliances rather than just gutting the current kitchen and throwing everything away as they planned out a more tricked-out setup to take its place.)

After Hardison came up with a few possible options for configurations, and researched some options of what sorts of furniture could be bought and added, he offered everything up to the other two to play around with. Everyone played around with their spaces and made suggestions; Eliot swapped out the granite countertops for a mix of wood and quartz; Parker emptied almost everything from her room, except for a plant on top of a small bookshelf, and a futon and folding floor chair that she could fit in her small sliding closet. (Parker also made dirtier arrangements with the furniture than he had, which he considered a feat!) 

Rooms were digitally painted blue and green and purple; splatters put on walls to see what it would be like to have a more artistic space, and things turned back to painter's white so they could make sure that yes, all the furniture really did match; it was that wall colour that was throwing things off.

Eventually, everything was sorted. All there was left to do was to bring their creation to life.

* * *

#### August

Of course, Eliot was put in charge of a lot of the work in preparing for the move. Once the muscle, always the muscle.

The worst part was doing outdoor work in the heat of summer. There was a garden to dig out and another to build, altogether making three days of work at an inopportune time. He'd have preferred to do it in October, really, once the weather was cooled down and it was a good time to plant bulbs in the pre-existing front yard and prepare for herbs and vegetables out back, but Hardison had argued that it'd be nice to have everything set up before the official move-in date, and everyone had offered to help. So. Set-up now it was.

Of course, people weren't exactly living up to that: Parker was happy to dig, even if it came with far too many comparisons to gravedigging (which was wrong; gravedigging involved a very distinctive shape, size, and technique; setting up a raised bed and piling and smoothing dirt in it really didn't compare well). But she was easily distractible, which was only enabled by Hardison who had helped move a total of eight logs that would help make the outer walls of the raised bed, and then had buggered off somewhere and eventually returning with a large tray of lemonade and wafer cookies, which he'd gone no farther than six feet from for the half-hour since; generally with a glass in hand.

(Dammit, Hardison!)

Working inside was generally better. It almost felt like old times, working in sync to prepare and paint a wall; they'd done it on at least two heists before, and the need to take the painter's tape on and off, well, who _hadn't_ needed to do something along the same lines when setting up and tearing down a room during some break-in or another?

He was responsible for the lion's share of physically transporting boxes of things, and putting furniture in the places that Hardison had pre-marked on the floor—often with small adjustments to perfect the angles. It was clear that Haridson had been going for straight angles in the living room, for example, but just a small tilt could maximise group interaction and television view, and minimize glare from the sun out of the big picture windows. If Hardison didn't understand or appreciate that, then he could just move them back himself.

Parker was amazing at packing boxes, and Hardison had a good sense of how to arrange things, and (as always) was a good getaway driver. So, between the three of them, it was just a matter of setting up a system that worked, and overseeing the hired professionals that they'd gotten to build the new kitchen and reassemble the old one as best they could in the basement, and the ones that were working on the _other_ house addition that Hardison had talked them all into.

It took time to get everything together, but it was definitely worth it. And sure, it wouldn't be until next year when the outdoor gardens were fully set up that everything would really seem fully done and put together, and they'd see the real fruits of their labour. But soon, the house would fully be move-in ready. And after the amount of blood, sweat, and tears that Eliot had poured into the house (and mourning the month of revenues that were lost in the decision to close the brewpub over August so they could work on the house full-time), he was ready to finally live and bask in the results of his own hard work.

* * *

#### September

They kept the penthouse.

That was more of a relief to Parker than she cared to admit. 

But there was a benefit having somewhere within walking distance of the brewpub where they could crash around big catering orders, or get away if they needed some time alone. Which, if Parker was honest, was something she'd always found missing when they all were living there together. She loved her boys to the moon and back all right, and would kill for them in a heartbeat (literally), but there was something about having some alone time—having some _breathing_ space—that she sometimes itched for when they started living and working together and spending almost all their time living out of each other's pockets.

Sure, she stayed with everyone the first night after their official move; when everything was finally in place, and the three could collapse together in bed, proud of their hard work. But the next night, and the night after that, were spent back at the penthouse alone.

It was quiet. Almost eerily so, after the almost constant sound of banter and hammers and drills and the easy-listening music mix that Hardson had constantly playing in the background while they worked. But that just made it easier to get into the mood as she skulked around the half-abandoned rooms, seeing if there was anything that her boys had left behind that she thought they'd want in their daily life, or things that they'd misplaced ages ago that were hiding in cracks. There, under the bookshelf, was Eliot's old favourite pocket knife. There, in Hardison's newly-dubbed Control Centre B was a jack that he'd obviously forgotten to connect. There, behind the fridge, was the flip-flop she'd thrown after some incredibly heated argument when they were all sleep-deprived and short-tempered and on the third night of a very messy heist. And there, left in the closet, were a couple shirts that smelled like everyone.

She collected the flip-flop and the knife, left a post-it note on the keyboard about the jack, and another on the jack itself to make it more obvious, and wore one of the old shirts to bed.

It was nice to be alone, to have a bit of time to just be herself, and to bask in the empty space.

But it was also nice to have the reminder of everyone, and of the promise of their love.

Perhaps, in a few nights, she will have her fill of the loneliness, and be ready to return to full-time partnership with her boys. Perhaps, eventually, she will be ready to give up this space altogether.

But for now, having the space available, and having the option to just return whenever she wanted, to know that she could just escape for a night alone when it all was too much with perhaps a quick video call to say hello to everyone in the interim, that was all she could ask for. That was plenty.

And for a girl who was always looking for her next new want; it was nice, for once, to feel satisfied.

* * *

#### October

Hardison got his hot tub.

It was large, with whirlpool jets, and plenty of room for company should the need arise.

Of course, there was a lot of joy in just having the space to themselves, too. Especially since it made for clothing-optional times, at least in the current environment.

They couldn't be _too_ obvious about it, since even though the hot tub was technically indoors, it was in a room with floor-to-ceiling picture windows on all sides that could be opened for fresh air or kept closed to preserve heat. (And there was that old saying about glass houses….) Still, the fact that the option was there was tantalizing, and it was sometimes nice to slip into the hot tub with all the bits out, and a nice, dry house robe waiting for him to wrap himself in off to the side. (Or, if he was particularly lucky, a nice, dry house robe waiting for _someone else_ to wrap him up in, and allow him to return the favour.)

Some of his favourite early nights in the house were spent in that hot tub; first with Eliot, chatting and relaxing and talking about man stuff (in other words, talking about Lucille and Parker while neither were around to listen), and then with Parker too, once she felt ready to come and join them.

It was nice, having all three of them in the tub together, especially with the weather changing. There was something great about having the screen windows open, letting the chilly autumn air in to contrast the hot tub's warmth. It would probably be too cold for that in winter, unless someone really felt like polar bear-ing it. Which… come to think of it, he put past absolutely none of his companions: Parker would probably do it just because she could, and Eliot would probably consider it some sort of training.

Man, he'd fallen in love with some _weird_ die? I've worked 36 hour stakeouts, and I can't _imagine_ the amount of exhaustion that caring for a baby would entail. Especially while still recovering from the body horror.

"I've actually considered doing something about it before. Medically, I mean. Ensuring that I _can't_. I mean, I've been through enough. And abortion clinics are definitely a thing, but… I could just be done with it forever. Except, that has its _own_ side-effects, and I like my body as it is. So, here I am. Just me."

Haridson was quiet for a moment as he took that all in, making Parker eventually frown and poke him.

"Hello? Did I just break you with talks of voluntary sterilisation?"

"A little," Hardison admitted. "But one, I love your body just the way it is, and would respect your right should you want to change it in any way. Two… yeah. Babies are rough. And three… are you still okay with an older kid, then?"

"Yeah," Parker replied. "Older kids can take care of themselves. I get them better. Plus, knowing how to communicate means you're not stuck guessing if a baby needs to burp or poop or both."

"Fair," Hardison replied.

It was about then that Eliot had entered, and the conversation had gone a bit into examining poop (apparently there were a few distinct ways to tell what a person had eaten in the past 24 hours; Hardison didn't really want to know how Eliot knew that) and then onto, thankfully, less weird topics.

Another night, he'd closed his eyes, taken a deep breath, enjoying the crisp, autumn air coming through the windows, and then blinked them open so he could take a good look at Parker (buck naked, unsurprisingly), and Eliot (wearing his trunks, the wimp.)

"Can you believe it's October, already?" he asked.

"I can," Eliot replied. "Thanksgiving orders are already coming in. Next month's gonna be intense."

"Good," Parker added. "It'll make up for August."

Eliot groaned at that, and Hardison chuckled.

"Fair, fair. But I mean, it's been a whole ten months since we… since all this started. Ten months ago, we were sitting around the Christmas tree talking about the possibility of having a kid. And, now… fuck, guys. Look at us! We've stayed clean."

"Almost," Parker and Eliot corrected in unison.

"Almost clean," Hardison agreed. "Better than I thought we'd do, at any rate. And getting better all the time. And look at us! We got a house. We got new hobbies. We got our shit together. And if we all aren't _better_ than we were at the start of the year…."

"We're different, for sure," Parker replied.

"But mainly in good ways," Eliot added, reaching to squeeze her hand.

Parker took his hand in her own, squeezing it back. "Yeah, mainly good."

Hardison smiled. He loved his family so much. And now… now there was only one last part in the plan to put into action.

He took in another deep breath, let it out, and met both of their eyes once again.

"I think we might actually be ready to start down the fostering path."

* * *

#### November

"Dammit! Fuck! Shit!"

Well, Parker was in rampage mode, from the sound of it.

Eliot finished the order he was working on, sent it out with a relatively new hire that he hadn't quite managed to memorize the name for yet (Chris, maybe? It was a C or K name at least; Parker and Hardison would know) and headed over just in time to stop Parker from stabbing his $800 wheel of parmesan with a steak knife. From the look of it, she'd already thrown three bags of sugar against the wall, and had done some punching to the big sack of flour leaning against one of the pantry shelves, too.

"Let me go!" she yelled, as he held her arms and restrained her against his chest, forcing her hand open until she dropped the knife onto the floor.

"Not til you tell me what's up."

"Why the hell should anything be up?"

"You've got a very distinctive way of holding a temper tantrum."

"It's not a temper tantrum," Parker replied. "I'm just—"

"Incredibly angry about something?"

Parker went still for a moment, probably thinking that over, before squirming and struggling again. "Fine. Maybe it's a temper tantrum. But it's a founded one. I'll tell you if you let me go, okay?"

"Promise me you won't throw anything more, or stab me, or otherwise put the restaurant, its staff, or any of its goods in jeopardy?"

"Fine."

Eliot waited two slow breaths, then let her go. To her credit, Parker only turned around and glared, rubbing her wrists momentarily before crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's gonna take at least six months, probably over a year."

Eliot's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What is?"

"The whole fostering thing. Hardison and I were looking up the options in more detail this morning, while you were doing prep work. The shortest it even _could_ take is three, but there's home visits and police checks and Hardison had some ideas about how letting the house settle for a year might make us seem less… I don't know, desperate or something? So who knows when we actually _will_ get going? Plus, again, there's _fingerprinting_ and _police checks_ which means that we're already lost unless we fudge things even more, which goes against the entire point of what we've been doing this year and I thought we would have a kid by Christmas, and now who knows if we'll even have one at all?"

Eliot sighed. "All that, huh? I mean, the police checks don't surprise me, and Hardison _did_ say that he'd set us up identities for that right at the beginning; that's why the house technically belongs to the Robinsons, right? And they're a perfectly normal, average, suburban couple..."

"But I don't wanna _live_ as the Robinsons," Parker countered. "Heists are for outside of the home. I wanna just be me, enjoying _my_ life within _my_ doors."

And really, that was fair. It would be tough to try and keep an act up 24/7, and if a kid found out that there was any sort of deception in the process, well, kids were even more a wildcard than most adults. Who knew what would happen?

He frowned, thinking it through, (with more than a few mental "Dammit, Hardison!"s) before he came up with, if not an answer, then at least a decent proposal to get them started.

"Look. Let's talk to Hardison tonight, make sure we're all on the same page. Maybe we need to readjust the plan a bit. Or maybe there's been some talking past each other. I don't know. Either way, I don't think we should do anything more than discuss, today."

"Fine," Parker sighed. "We can fucking talk about it tonight."

"And," Eliot continued, raising his voice just enough that Parker knew not to go down the rant he could see forming in her mind already, "I think we all deserve a cheat day."

"A cheat day?"

Well, that, at least, certainly drew Parker's attention.

* * *

Thanksgiving dinner was very good.

Not that they expected any less from Eliot's cooking, of course, but it was amazing what you could accomplish with top-line cookware and top-line ingredients, all courtesy of Jeff Bezos.

Not that he knew it, of course, but it was doubtful that the guy would miss an amount that hr made in two or three seconds while he was sleeping.

(There was residual talk of what it would take to provide leverage to his workers; it was something that they discussed every few weeks, when they went over ethics. How much screwing over, and in what ways, was their baseline? Was tax evasion enough? Or did they need specific hurt to a _specific_ little guy? Ah, there was always such a grey area to figure out.)

If some items were a little less perfectly diced than normal, that was probably because Eliot's hands were still a little sore from the brawl he'd gotten into a few nights earlier. Nothing too major, just showing some idiot or another why _not_ to go harassing women on the street.

And Parker looked particularly ravishing. It was probably the pendant necklace she was wearing—a 'gift', as she put it, from a woman who visited the pub about once a week, dressed super nicely and drove a mercedes benz, and _never_ tipped. (Evil incarnate, as Parker put it.)

Ah, it was good to have a cheat day every now and again.

* * *

"So, does this mean that the Foster plan is out?" Parker asked, lying on her back on their giant bed, her head pillowed on Eliot's arm as she played absently with Hardison's plan.

"I don't see why it needs to be," Hardison replied. "I mean, yeah, we kind of broke our streak. But there's benefits to this."

Eliot let out an incredulous huff. "Like hell there are."

"No really!" Hardison insisted. "Hear me out. We've got time. If we want to restart, we can try again. Get the house feeling actually lived-in. And _then_ get our personae and jump through the hoops. Or...."

"Or?" Parker repeated, craning her neck so she could look at him.

"Or," Hardison repeated, "we focus on another demographic. There are kids that age out and have nowhere to go. There are kids that run away, and never make it into the system in the first place. There are probably kids that have slipped through so many different cracks, that because of our, shall we say, _unique_ background" (Eliot snorted) "that we'd be perfect for."

"So, someone a little more like me," Parker guessed.

"Exactly," Hardison replied.

Eliot hummed. "That sounds a bit more dangerous, having no vetting, no safety nets. We could walk into a sting, or they could accuse us of just about anything."

"And you think we couldn't handle that?"

"Point."

"So, we're going to find a kid like me?" Parker repeated.

Hardison rolled over, capturing Parker's hands between his own and offering her a broad, wide grin. "Nothing would make me happier, than to raise a mini-you."

"And maybe we could manage to make her less weird this time."

Eliot got several swats for that. Definitely worth it.

* * *

#### December

So, _maybe_ that cheat day meant a re-evaluation of their plans, but it was well worth it. After all, there was more than one way to find someone in need of a good home, who was severely lacking.

For instance, one could start by looking just outside one's own front door.

There had always been a decent homeless population in Portland, like there was in New York, and San Francisco, and just about everywhere else. 

Parker had been homeless for a bit once; she could speak to the experience better than most. It also meant it was easier for her than most to talk to the people on the streets, and actually connect with them.

And that's how she found them.

The kid was thin. Lanky. Probably a little tall for their indiscriminate age (she was fairly sure they were somewhere in their late teens, but it was hard to tell from the way they slouched). They'd been hanging around for a few months, according to some of the other locals.

They had a criminal record, apparently. Shoplifted more than once, got into a few fights now and again, ran away from home several times before the running away finally stuck.

Maybe the kid hadn't quite expected a new family for Christmas, but as far as Parker was concerned, they couldn't have asked for a better match.

She started building a rapport with food, with conversation, in the exact same way that anyone else would court a feral cat: slowly building trust over time until she could get closer and better understand them.

It took until Christmas Eve to finally invite them home, offering them a night on a soft bed and the prospect of a warm meal. They could stay longer, if they wanted, but she made it clear that there were no expectations. The kid could walk right out the door at any time. And if they did decide to stay, well, then they'd figure it out from there.

The kid looked wide-eyed at the quiet, innocent-looking suburban home, and asked if Parker was shitting them. Parker assured them that she was not. This, as it happened, was home. The kid obviously didn't know what to make of that, but let themself be led inside, so Parker took it as a win.

She introduced them to Eliot, who was already preparing something delicious-smelling for the next day's dinner, and to Hardison, who beamed so hard when he saw their new guest. And, looking at the kid as they sat down, still not knowing what to make of the house (checking the doors and windows, checking for sharp objects; all the signs that pointed to either abuse, or knowing your way around a heist) Parker was beginning to finally understand why.

But it _was_ Christmas, and she, for one, was ready,

"This is for you," Parker said, going over to the tree and handing over a small, unlabelled box, gift wrapped in green holographic paper with a red bow on top.

The kid looked a little apprehensive as they took it, but opened it easily enough, before staring wide-eyed at Parker.

"Are these… lockpicks?"

"Yep!" Parker replied happily.

Later on, there would be time to figure out where to go from here; whether they wanted to absolutely return to a life of crime and providing "Leverage" in their own ways, or if they wanted to keep a low profile for a while longer, and use the brew pub and their prior earnings as their main sources of income.

But for now, it was Christmas. And the tree was decorated, and Eliot was cooking away once again in the kitchen, making stuff that smelled _even better_ than last year.

"C'mon, put those away," Parker insisted. " _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ is about to come on, and Hardison is gonna have a fit if we miss it."

"What's the point?" the kid asked, "It's just a bunch of puppets…."

"Have you actually watched it?" 

The kid shook their head no, and Parker smiled.

"C'mon. I promise you'll like it more than you think. One guy pulls all the teeth out of a giant monster!"

Perhaps their family wasn't ever going to be quite normal, but with their new potential addition… Parker thought everything was going to be just fine.


End file.
